


Holiday Happenings

by hrrybb



Series: I wanna carry all of your children [3]
Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Blowjobs, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, Domestic Fluff, Future Fic, Kidfic, M/M, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 07:39:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5531294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hrrybb/pseuds/hrrybb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Sprouts?” Clover calls from across the table. Her purple Christmas cracker hat is slipping down her little forehead and it’s shoving hair into her eyes, though she doesn’t seem to mind. The napkin tucked in the top of her gold dress has gravy all over it.</p><p>“You want more?” Harry asks. Clover nods in reply and her hat slips completely down, circling her neck. “We’ve got a bottomless pit over here!” He jokes as he passes the bowl of brussels sprouts down the table.</p><p> </p><p>Five holiday ficlets in the kidfic verse. Christmas sex, many children and lots of fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holiday Happenings

**Author's Note:**

> Since kidfic has consumed my life and become my favourite, and christmas is already my favourite, I thought I'd combine the two. So here's five little holiday fics, all mashed together so as not to spam the tag. Sorry that this is long and purposely out of order.
> 
> Technically Harry is still 17 in the last ficlet since it's a flashback. It's just one kiss really, but read at your own risk I guess. 
> 
> I'd like to send a huge thanks to A, for always reading over my endless amount of kidfic, and to Tahn, Erin and especially July for listening to me talk about this verse literally 24/7.
> 
> Any remaining mistakes are totally mine. Please enjoy!

CHRISTMAS EVE 2021

_Oldham_

They both settle in for bed, even though it’s still relatively early. It had just been the adults downstairs as Harry had put Clover down hours ago. Eileen had offered a round of Christmas rum that neither of them declined, even on their third top up.

They’re puttering around in the guest bedroom that used to be Nick’s. Harry’s wearing his hilarious new Christmas vest from Liv as a pyjama top. He's not sure when he'd get a practical use out of it, but he loves it. “Isn’t this the best thing you’ve ever seen?” He giggles, playing with the design.

“No, Haz. A top showing your nipples with Father Christmas’ face and pom poms plastered on is surprisingly _not_ the best thing I’ve ever seen,” Nick says from the bed. He fluffs a pillow, turning himself around to fall against it with a tipsy huff.

“Whoa, Christmas is a no-sass zone, Grimshaw.” Harry argues, crawling up to poke at his bare chest.

“That’s Grimshaw-Styles to you,” Nick retorts playfully, grabbing his hand and pulling him down.

Harry straddles him drunkenly. “I love Christmas. ‘S the best!” He bends to give him a kiss. It's not great because he can’t keep his hair out of the way and everything just tastes like booze. “But you know what I really love?”

“Me?”

“Christmas sex!” Harry giggles, ignoring Nick’s ploy for affection. “Well, you too. But Christmas sex. It’s a bloody tradition!” He yells the last bit, leaning back to throw his arms in the air.

“Shhh, god. Come here,” Nick laughs, dragging him back down into a kiss. Harry immediately melts into it. Nick’s lips are soft against his and there’s a finger dipping under the hem of his shirt.

Harry lets his hands wander too, down Nick’s neck and across his shoulder, getting a bit distracted when he reaches his armpit. “Ouch,” Nick whines against his mouth, unwilling to break the kiss.

Harry can’t help but laugh in response and pull again on the thick hair there. Nick wiggles around to stop his hand, giving Harry the perfect angle to tickle him. He digs his fingers into Nick’s skin relentlessly and fights to pepper his face with kisses.

Nick howls with laughter, forever plagued with being disastrously ticklish. “Stop! Stop!” He huffs, instantly out of breath. He pushes at Harry’s chest and fights him off.

Harry falls to the side, breathing heavily himself. “Okay!” He grabs Nick’s forearm to heave himself closer again. “I’m sorry. Please don’t say Christmas sex is off!”

“Is’not off,” Nick slurs, linking their fingers together. Suddenly, he sucks in a snoring yawn.

“Aww, no! Nick don’t fall asleep.” Harry turns on his side to poke him in the chest a couple more times.

“I’m old! And a little drunk! We’ve got a baby for god’s sake!” Nick whinges, holding Harry’s hand away until he stops.

Harry stays quiet for a moment and runs his hand across Nick’s chest. It’s Clover’s _third_ Christmas already. He can hardly believe it, how fast time has been passing. He pushes himself up on his elbow, looking down at Nick thoughtfully. He is a bit old, and a bit drunk. Harry can see it behind Nick’s glasses. His eyes are hooded and loose, with wrinkles appearing despite Nick’s best efforts to avoid them forever.

Harry feels like time has barely passed since Nick had finally asked and they'd settled down. They’ve been doing this for years longer than Harry cares to count, but properly for a whole four now. It’s like they started living in their own little bubble, escaping the world and time for just as long. Their bodies are telling the time though. Clover, mostly. She’s so big now; getting better at taking steps, forming words and practicing her finger paints. Her hair’s gotten long too, thicker. Nick won’t let them cut it.

“We’re gonna have _two_ babies next Christmas!” Harry exclaims belatedly. A massive smile spreads across his cheeks, the feeling of it almost secondhand. “Two whole babies!”

“Can’t wait for her,” Nick whispers, looking up at him.

“How do you know it’s going to be a girl? It could be a boy! It could be whatever it damn well pleases!”

“Dunno, just feel like it’ll be a girl,” he tells him, smoothing his hand down Harry’s arm. “Find out next month anyway.”

“What are we gonna name it? We thought about this like one month in with Clover.” He starts going over the list of carefully rejected names from before. Hazel; Nick suggested it, Harry hated it. Ruby; Harry liked it, Nick vetoed it. Aimee Jr.; Aimee’s idea, not even considered.

“Could do a list again,” Nick suggests, like he’s already got a mental one. He’s looking up at the ceiling, eyes glazing over in thought. Or maybe he’s just about to pass out. Harry won't let that happen. He can't pass up the prospect of Christmas sex. It _really_ is a tradition, after all.

Harry rolls over, sheets twisting around his ankles. “Mmm. Umm,” he hums, plastering himself on top of Nick again. “Well your mum was kinda mad about not getting a mention with Clov, right? Maybe we should name her Eileen if it’s a girl,” Harry laughs. He props his chin on Nick’s chest.

“Do you like Rowan for a boy, though?” Nick asks, ignoring him. “I, just - I have this feeling.” He starts listing off a few other names. “I did like Rosie last time.”

Harry’s stomach rumbles quietly. It’s a bit mental, considering he ate about nine pounds of Christmas stuffing earlier. Probably a poor decision, since he’s been trying to stay gluten-free. He supposes Christmas is always the best time to make an exception on your diet. He closes his eyes and lets his mind wander as he tunes Nick out. Thinks about McDonald’s for a second. He could go for more of what they had for dessert last night, those orange and ginger cookies that Daisy had sent them up with.

“What about Ginger?” He asks, struck with sudden inspiration.

Nick snorts directly in his face. A bit of spit lands on Harry’s cheek. “Really? Ginger?”

“Please? Aww, just think about it! Our little Gingy. Ginger Grimshaw-Styles,” Harry works it on his tongue to see how it sounds. “It's got a ring to it!” He can’t help the strong sensation. He feels attached to the name already.

“God, are you serious? What if it always autocorrects to like, finger?” Nick’s laugh rumbles in his chest. Harry puts his cheek to it, looking up at Nick. “What if she comes out an actual ginger and never lives it down?”

“Please?” He asks again. “It’s my favourite.” He moulds his face into his best pout.

“You’re such a child,” Nick mutters under his breath, but Harry watches him roll his eyes with a fond smile on his lips so he takes that as the beginnings of a win. A hand comes up to brush through his hair, gentle and soothing. “Since when?”

Harry cranes his neck to look at the clock on the bedside table. “Since two minutes ago.”

Nick pulls on his ear, teasing. “Set in stone, then.”

“Thank you,” Harry whispers. He knows it’s as close as he’s going to get right now. But he likes it. Laying on Nick’s chest, he repeats it a few times in his head. Ginger. Initials G.G-S. Ging. Gingy. Maybe Ginny if she likes.

He maneuvers himself further onto Nick’s body and gains a hand stroking under his ugly shirt for his efforts. “Still too tired for Christmas sex?” he asks, rubbing into Nick’s thigh.

“Mmm, you could probably get away with sucking me off.” Nick uses the hand already on the back of Harry’s head to pull him into a kiss.

 

\------------------------

 

 

DECEMBER 2022

_London_

 

“Bring the napkin rings!” Harry calls down the stairs into the kitchen.

“Sod the napkin rings,” Aimee says to Nick, dipping her finger straight into the cheese dip from her seat at the island. Even after all this time, certain words still sound so wrong out of her mouth.

“Shut up and bring that upstairs would you? Stop putting your dirty fingers in the appetizers.” Nick shoos her away while rummaging around in the drawer for the silver napkin rings.

Aimee sighs and slips off her stool. “Remind me again why you’ve bought a house with the kitchen in the basement? My pregnant ass cannot make it up those stairs more than once.” She pats her huge belly before picking up the cracker plate and hiking her way up the stairs.

Nick finds as many napkin rings as he can and bounds up the stairs after her. They’ve converted the front living room as best as they can into a dining room and Harry’s making a silent fuss about it when they make it upstairs. Nick watches from the doorway as he slams a fork down onto the tablecloth, almost knocking a wine glass over.

“Babe. Babe. It's okay.” Nick grabs his hand. Harry looks up at him, his eyes flickering with distress. “It's just us. It's just Sunday roast. Calm down.”

Harry gives him a tight smile. “It's Christmas though.” He tries to go back to rearranging the silverware but sighs heavily when Nick won't let him break eye contact. “Yeah, alright.”

On the other side of the wall, Nick hears the door slam shut and a cool breeze swooshes around the corner.

Harry gives an involuntary shiver, tightening his hand on Nick’s.

“We come bearing dessert!” Douglas calls, coming around the corner and shucking his coat onto the massive pile in the front hall.

Daisy comes in behind him, her arms full of pies and plates of cookies. “I’ll go put these in the kitchen,” she suggests before swishing away in her tulle skirt.

“Don’t tell Aimee there’s desserts or she’ll be stuck in there forever!” Nick calls after her just as Aimee comes in from the family room.

“Merry fucking Christmas, Nicholas. Where’s my husband?”

“Right here!” Ian calls, swooping down the stairs with Clover and Ginger in each of his arms. He hands over Clover to Harry and Ginger to Nick. Aimee tugs Ian away as soon as his hands are free. Nick bets she’ll be asking him to retrieve her some dessert from the kitchen.

“Thanks for getting them ready,” Harry calls after him. He boosts Clover comfortably on his hip and boops a finger on her nose. She tries to bite it in retaliation. Her hairs still tied into her ponytail from earlier, but she’s in a pretty, gold frock that Anne had bought her. Ginger has a matching one, but thankfully Ian had dressed her down into a dark green onesie.

Nick can tell Ginger’s tired, even after taking a nap that lasted about four hours this afternoon. Not that he’s complaining, it gave him and Harry more time to prepare for tonight but he’s a bit worried about her nodding off in her high chair tonight.

Regardless of her ending the night with a face full of gravy, it’s a glorious reprieve from her usual devil-child antics. He reckons it’s more likely that she’ll end the night screaming and trying to tear Dougie’s hair out, but he’ll take what he can get.  

Nick smoothes her thick black hair off her forehead and she smiles sleepily, tucking her head against his chest. He can’t stop himself from staring for a moment, at her sweet chubby cheeks pressed fatter against his shirt.

Clover starts babbling some nonsense and Nick glances up to find Harry looking at him, his head tipped into that intense, fond stare of his.

“Stop,” Nick laughs, feeling his own fond smile growing on his face. He reaches out to push Harry away by the face, but he ducks just in time. “Go, take them. I’ll finish this.” He deposits Ginger expertly into Harry’s free arm.

It’s quite easy to finish the table, Nick’s not sure what Harry was worried about. He shoves the napkin rings onto their fancy crimbo napkins and lays them neatly over each plate. He arranges all the cardboard crackers at the top of each place setting and he’s done, though he supposes Harry did most of the work.

Later, when they’ve hauled the roast and trimmings to the table and Nick’s finished answering questions once again on _why_ they had to buy a house with the kitchen in the basement, everyone tucks in. It’s a classic dinner between friends, one they’ve had a million times before, but Harry was right. It feels like _Christmas_.

Clover was ecstatic when they’d brought out her booster seat so that she could be a big girl at the table. Nick watches as Daisy and Pixie, sat on either side of her, show her how to properly open a Christmas cracker.

Pictures are snapped all around of everyone in their hats and playing with their little toys. Nick laughs because just last month Aimee had told him that Instagram was _definitely_ on it’s way out.

Nick leans back in his chair and takes a long sip of his wine. He feels wonderfully full and just on the right side of tipsy. He swears to himself that he has to stop drinking by forty. But for now he’s enjoying it and hoping the amount of food he’s just stuffed into his belly will stave off a hangover in the morning.

Douglas is sat beside Daisy, an arm thrown across the back of her chair. At the end of the table, Niall is sat with his longest running girlfriend Natalie. Nick doesn’t know much about her other than she’s modelled for a lingerie company Daisy loves and that Harry _might_ own a pair of knickers from. Niall cuts into his yorkshire puddings and completely ignores the girls as they start up a conversation.

Pixie and Aimee are sat next to each other; they’ve been absolutely inseparable since they found out they were pregnant within a week of each other. George and Ian are sat randomly, one beside Colette and the other beside Jack, each of them talking so fast even Nick can’t catch up.

It’s a miracle they were able to find enough tables to accommodate everyone, and an even bigger miracle that their front room is long enough for these kinds of nights. It may or may not have been a selling feature of the house in Nick’s mind.

He sighs, placing his glass back on the table. From beside him, Harry slips a hand onto his knee, squeezing. Nick places a hand over his and squeezes back. On his other side, with her highchair tucked into the corner of the table, Ginger is babbling away in her own language and smearing mashed peas all over herself.

“Thank god Ian changed her before dinner,” Nick mentions, laughing. Harry smiles back at him, silently agreeing.

“Sprouts?” Clover calls from across the table. Her purple Christmas cracker hat is slipping down her little forehead and it’s shoving hair into her eyes, though she doesn’t seem to mind. The napkin tucked in the top of her gold dress has gravy all over it.

“You want more?” Harry asks. Clover nods in reply and her hat slips completely down, circling her neck. “We’ve got a bottomless pit over here!” He jokes as he passes the bowl of brussels sprouts down the table.

It’s incredible, how much his child likes sprouts. It was one of her first words because she learned quickly to demand them at each meal. Nick likens it to those stories of women who eat too much of one food when they’re pregnant and the child comes out inherently hating the food. Except it’s Harry who hates brussels sprouts and Clover who adores them.

Nick watches as Daisy fixes Clover’s hat and scoops a few more onto her plate before cutting them up into smaller pieces. The blue glow from the neon sign on the cabinet lights the girls up from behind. He hadn’t noticed that anyone had turned it on until they’d settled and started eating, but it gives everything a nice, _special_ Christmas glow along with the lights Harry had strung around the house.

He lets go of Harry’s knee to dig his phone out of the front pocket of his jeans. He snaps a picture. Daisy’s face is hidden in her mass of hair, but Clover’s beaming up at her and has her fist curled around her little zebra print fork like a caveman.

He opens up Instagram, laughing silently at what Aimee had said about it. But it's always been his favourite and he knows for a fact that everyone at the table, even Niall, still uses it.

He captions the photo simply with the word _enjoy_ next to a Christmas tree emoji and makes sure the filter brings out the blue around Clover’s paper hat.

By the end of the night they’ve documented absolutely everything for the Internet and their own memories. There's a picture of Aimee and Pixie balancing their crumpled cracker hats on their equally pregnant bellies, one of Daisy on Douglas’ lap feeding him the cherry out the bottom of her drink.

There are also countless pictures of the kids, Ginger bouncing on George’s lap, Aimee lending Clover a swipe of her lipstick. Someone even snaps a photo of Nick and Harry kissing sweetly under the mistletoe, Ginger held between them against Harry’s chest as she sleeps.

The night seems to go on _forever_ , not that anyone really minds. Nick’s always loved being around people, especially these ones. Eventually though, after nine post-roast smoke breaks and a tipsy impromptu dance party later, people start filing out. Niall takes Natalie home first, claiming he’s got an early flight to Dublin in the morning. Aimee drags Ian out the door not long after, grumbling about how Nick and Harry should keep a body pillow in their guest room.

Nick takes up a semi-permanent position near the door, wishing everyone well on their way out, accepting kisses and bouncing Ginger gently in his arms so she’ll stay asleep. She’s had such a good night of refraining from screaming her head off and Nick would like to keep it that way, for everyone’s sake.

Harry comes back down from putting Clover to bed, who had fought her hardest to stay up. Up until a half an hour ago, she had been bouncing off the walls, laughing and running and stuffing her little face with dessert. Collette had handed her to Harry after she had suddenly conked out mid-orange-ginger biscuit on the floor in the hall.

Daisy and Douglas head out last, kissing and touching and swatting at each other as they glide out the door into the cold.

“Ah, young love,” Nick mocks as he locks the door behind them. Harry steps up to him, digging an arm between his waist and the door, cuddling Ginger between them again.

“Ah, very comfortable steady relationships,” Harry replies, smiling up at him so fondly Nick thinks sap might actually start falling from his face.

“Marriage, you mean?”

Harry nods, adding a roll of his eyes. “Merry almost Christmas.”

Nick leans forward, pressing a firm, chaste kiss sweetly to Harry’s mouth. “Happy Christmas.”

 

 

\-----------------------

 

DECEMBER 2021

_London_

 

“Look, Clov, up there!” Harry points, bringing her little mitted hand with his. He points up to the big star, hung on wire above the middle of the street. “‘S a big Christmas star! It’s gonna light up!” He shakes her arm around, bouncing her on his hip to get a giggle out of her.

She was a bit stroppy earlier; probably still dealing with jetlag. She started wailing with tears that made her hair stick to her face as he and Nick had tried to dress her against the cold. Harry had picked her up once Nick had forced her winter boots on her feet and a bright orange knit hat atop her head. She had immediately cuddled into his neck, refusing to be put down as they walked to the ceremony.

It _is_ cold, but Harry doesn’t mind so much. The chilly air is just another reminder that he's _home._ They’d spent the last six months in LA. There's just something about it that he can't escape; can't let go of. He loves it there, and he knows Nick’s gotten used to being there more often, but this is home. He always preferred to be in England for the holidays anyway.

They’d been in LA to tie up some odd ends with Harry’s label and let Nick have a proper vacation from work. “They’ve finally booted me,” Nick would always joke to people who asked what he was up to these days. But in reality, they’d offered him the drivetime slot.

Originally, Nick had been a little distraught. He’d thrown a fit and rolled himself into their duvet and sat on the couch crying for an entire afternoon, complaining to Harry that his entire _life_ was over. That the BBC had finally realized that he was shit at this job and that he was properly old.

Harry had reminded him of all the young presenters who had been given the same slot in the past. He had stroked Nick’s ego a little, reminding him of all the great moments of his career. “Greg James has never hosted the Brits, babe.”

With Nick preparing to move on from his leave from the breakfast show, his team has been ramping up his publicity plan. It's not that bad, especially compared to what Harry was used to in the past. It's just a bit weird to be the one watching it all happen.

His indefinite ‘break’ from music has been nice. Of course, it's not been a complete break. He sat in on some studio sessions with Liam and even Pixie in LA. He's just enjoying not doing anything _new_ for a while.

An elbow bumps his own while he's showing Clover more lights and stars strung up against the sky. “Here.” It's Nick, holding a cardboard cup in his direction. “Know you're tired of Starbucks. It's hot choccy.”

Harry adjusts Clover on his hip and accepts the cup. “Thanks.” He leans up and presents himself for a kiss. Nick kisses him quickly, but it’s sweet. 

A flash goes off beside them and Clover lets out a little surprised gasp, nuzzling back into his neck. As he pulls back, Harry sees Nick rolling his eyes at the photographer.

They're standing in the crowd that's gathered to admire the big gated tree beside the shop fronts at the top of the street. Everyone is tittering impatiently and crowding towards the little stage beside the tree.

It's things like this that Nick’s team had suggested; going to events that show he's matured, but still able to stay connected.

Nick's publicist Greta had let them know they'd be doing the honours tonight when they were still in LA. She told Nick that it would give a nice full circle effect, reminding people of the past times he's hosted the lighting ceremony. She’s here somewhere, Harry just hasn't gotten a chance to see her yet.

Clover begs for a sip of Harry’s cocoa. “Please Dada! I’be careful.” She smacks a kiss on his cheek when he relents and lets her hold it.

He holds a hand under it, just in case. He just can’t help finding it endlessly adorable when she wants to do _big girl_ things. When she hands it back, it comes with a massive sneeze, blowing spit and snot all across Harry’s face and her own.

“Oh great. Nice one, Clov.” He closes his eye and dramatically wipes the snot off his eyebrow.

Nick barks out a laugh at the sight of them but is quick to take Harry’s drink from his hand. He tosses it into the nearest bin before passing Harry a tissue from his pocket. He reaches across Harry to readjust Clover’s beanie, trying to tuck her hair away behind her ears.

“C’mere,” Nick tells her. He desperately tries to catch her head to wipe her face, but she just wriggles madly in Harry’s arms.

“No!” She shouts, swatting at Nick with her mittens. A couple to their left turns to look.

“Clover Aimee-Anne -” Harry stomps on Nick’s foot to remind him that now is not the place to pull out her full name in scolding. They have to take her on stage in about ten minutes.

Just then, carollers step onto the makeshift stage singing an old Christmas tune in outfits from the 19th century. “Look, Clov!” Harry points again, directing her attention to the stage.

It gives Nick an opportunity to swipe hastily across her face. She lets out a quick displeased cry and gives Nick a dirty look that makes Harry crack up.

The carollers sing a few songs and a few people in the crowd become brave enough to join in towards the end. Clover stays suspiciously quiet throughout the event, and a quick peek at her face on his shoulder reveals that she’s being slowly lulled to sleep.

Next, the chairman of some posh community committee that Nick and Harry don’t have time to be apart of comes on stage. He gives a very long winded speech, even for Harry’s tastes, about the community’s traditions.

“Now, to get on to what is perhaps my very favourite part of the Christmas season. We’ve got a few special guests here tonight to turn on the lights for us. Please welcome Nick and Harry Grimshaw-Styles, and their lovely daughter Clover!” They’re welcomed on stage to the muffled applause of mittens and substantially less screams than Harry’s used to.

Harry jostles Clover awake gently. “Say hi, Clover! Wave!” She looks up, blinking heavily as they approach the stage. Cameras start flashing wildly and she brings her head off Harry’s shoulder.

“Hiiya,” she calls sleepily, giving a little flap of her hand towards the crowd.

Harry watches as Greta appears out of the crowd, whispering something in Nick’s ear before he heads up the steps onto the little stage.

There’s a big switch installed on the front corner of the stage that Harry knows must only be for show. He’s never been apart of this kind of thing before. Nick’s done it more than once but Harry had to stay home so as to not pull a wild crowd into the little shop lane. Regardless, he reckons there’s a bit more of a science behind lighting up an entire street in Christmas lights than just flicking on a giant fake switch.

He watches Nick step up towards the chairman, taking the microphone from him. All the paparazzi have rushed to the front of the crowd, calling their names and their cameras flash relentlessly.

Clover wakes up fully from the noise of it all and the animated sounds of Nick’s voice as he begins his speech. She keeps shoving her nose into Harry’s collar each time there’s too many flashes.

It’s a very _Nick_ speech where he’s unable to keep on one topic for long, his mind and mouth going on ten different tangents, even though he’d practiced his points earlier. “London has helped me create more memories than just slopping chips down my shirt at the pubs and falling over in a dress on more than one Halloween, I promise. But where I really feel at home is with my family.”

Harry can just hear the fondness in Nick’s voice on the word ‘family’ and it makes his own stomach flip lightly. Nick turns to them, holding his hand out for Harry to take. He steps into line with Nick and Clover sits up, reaching her arms out for Nick.

She unclings from Harry’s waist and he juggles her over to Nick.

“Can you say hi to everyone Clover?” Nick asks, pointing out to the crowd. He holds the microphone in front of her expectantly.

“Hi’veryone,” she waves grandly, smiling massively with her little teeth on show.

Harry shakes his head, a smile growing on his own face. She loves attention, perhaps more than Nick and Harry combined. He’s afraid it’s just going to get worse with age. He listens to the various cooing sounds coming from the crowd and a weird proudness swells in his chest.

“Do you love Christmas?” Nick asks her. Harry can’t help but reach out and stroke her curly hair down her back. The nod she gives is huge, her eyes going wide with delight.

“Presents!” Clover cheers, thrusting her mittens in the air.

Harry slaps a hand over his face. Now the whole neighbourhood, and all the tabloids for that matter, are going to think she’s spoilt rotten. But the crowd just chuckles along with Nick.

“But what else do you like?” He lets Clover think on that for a minute as he goes on. “Despite Clov’s love for presents, we think Christmas is about more than that. It’s a time to spend with your loved ones, enjoying everyone’s company, resting. Maybe doing a bit of ice skating, knitting scarves if you’re into that.”

Harry holds his hand out to take the mic. “Nick cannot knit,” he tells the audience, setting the record straight. “But I can’t remember the last time we spent Christmas apart?”

Nick shakes his head. He tucks Clover’s faux fur coat tighter around her neck when she shivers against a breeze.

Harry hands back the microphone and lets Nick finish his speech. He rambles on a bit further, tying his new position at Radio 1 into how they plan to make this holiday extra special by spending as much time as possible together before Nick goes back to work.

“Now for everyone's favourite part. This is basically us saying Christmas is officially _on._ And since my whole incredibly adventurous speech was meant to be about family, Clover do you want to do the honours?”

Nick pokes at her cheek, forcing a dimpling smile onto her face.

“Do you wanna turn that big switch on?” Nick asks her in a way she understands. He points at the large red switch at the front of the platform.

“If you turn it on, all those pretty stars in the sky will light up!” Harry tells her.

Clover lights up about as bright as the stars when she hears that. She starts giggling and clapping happily. “Yes! Yes! Me do it!”

Harry follows them over to the podium with the switch, and the chairman counts them down.

“Three, two…”

“Okay Clov, put your hand on there and we’ll pull it together,” Nick explains quietly to her. She nods in excited agreement.

“One!”

“Now!” Nick pushes Clover’s little mitted hand down onto the plastic mechanism and suddenly the entire street is lit up.

Stars hang above the street, lining the shop fronts and the entire Christmas tree beside them is shining from top to bottom.

Harry feels like he could cry, looking at the pure amazement on Clover’s face. Her whole face is lit up brighter than it had been when they told her she was going to have a sibling. She points up at the biggest star right above them and squeals.

“Stars!” She yells, pointing and demanding that they look up to the sky with her.

Harry leans in and tucks a hand against Nick’s elbow and smacks a giant kiss on her wonderful face. “Happy Christmas, Clover.”

 

\--------------------------

 

CHRISTMAS EVE 2023

_London_

 

“He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle. And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight, ‘Happy Christmas to all, and to all a goodnight!’” Harry gives his best Santa impression at the last part, giving a joyful chuckle before closing the book and looking up.

Ginger’s fast asleep, cuddled under the covers with her thumb tucked in her mouth. Clover’s looking up at him with sleep-droopy eyes. They’ve let them share a bed this year, since that’s what they normally do up North every year.

“Happy Christmas, Daddy,” she whispers, smiling tiredly at him. She wiggles further under the covers and gathers her little stuffed reindeer up to her cheek.

“Happy Christmas, Clov,” he replies softly. Harry drops the book gently on the floor beside the bed and leans out of the kid’s chair he’d been sat in to give her a kiss. “Go to sleep now so that Santa Claus can bring your pressies.”

He leans away and a shadow is cast across their bed from the light in the hallway.

“Happy Christmas, Daddy,” Clover repeats, looking away from Harry to the door.

Harry follows her gaze to see Nick standing in the doorway to the hall, half changed into his Christmas pyjamas to match Harry. He’s got his glasses on already and a jumper that he must know is Harry’s favorite by now, even if he’s never said it. Their red and green checked flannel bottoms match at least.

“Be a good girl and go to sleep. The reindeer might lose all their magic if you’re awake!” Nick teases, taking a sip from the glass of red wine in his hand.

“Shh, that’s not true! Reindeer are always magic,” Harry retorts quietly. Clover just snuggles closer to her stuffed deer. “Have a good sleep, babe.”

Nick comes into the room and his knees crack as he crouches by the bed. “I was just joking. Merry Christmas, Clover.” He leans up and kisses her forehead, smoothing her thick hair off her face.

“Goodnight,” Harry whispers, gently rising from his chair.

He glances back at them once more before flicking the nightlight on as they leave. _Their_ girls, snuggled up in bed on Christmas Eve in their matching striped nightgowns like perfect little personifications of candy canes. He loves them so much. Nick gently closes the door behind them and the image is lost.

It feels a bit weird, to be at home for Christmas. They’ve never done a Christmas at their own house before, always having gone to Nick’s parents for Christmas Eve and then his the next day. It always felt like a big deal to go to Nick’s for Christmas, like it was extra special that he’d been invited on such a personal, family holiday. Even after having three kids together, being in Oldham over Christmas makes him full of happy nostalgia.

This year though, Pete and Eileen had told Nick they were going on a holiday abroad.

“We’re going to die eventually, Nicholas,” Eileen had argued when he’d tried to stop them. “Some vitamin D could prevent Pete from croaking too early. It’ll be good for us.”

So they’re off in Spain and Robin had to go away for work, and of course Anne had followed since it was a holiday. Their parents had all fucked off, so it just left the children. And the children’s children.

He remembers that Gemma and George are supposed to come over with Poppy in a few days, but it feels like Harry’s not going to see anyone until New Years. It’s like an unintentional holiday quarantine. At least he has Nick and the kids.

“Did Paisley go down okay?” Harry asks, slipping an arm through Nick’s as they head downstairs.

Nick nods silently. They make it to the living room, where Nick has Harry’s glass of wine set out next to the baby monitors and a Charlie Brown Christmas is just starting on the telly. Pig’s snuggled up in her bed down the hall and Nick’s even started a fire in the time Harry had been reading to the girls.

Nick lays himself luxuriously across the couch, being careful of his wine. “Want to have a Christmas cuddle?” He watches Harry over the top of his glass as he takes a sip.

“Do you even have to ask?” Harry dashes the last few steps over to the chesterfield and launches himself gently at Nick, wriggling around until their bodies match up perfectly.

Nick pulls the fuzzy holiday throw from the top of the couch over them both and Harry reaches for his drink before settling in fully.

They watch the movie mostly in silence, though Harry can’t help but hum along to some of the songs. He’s still full from dinner and Nick’s scratching his fingers through the hair behind Harry’s ear. He begins to feel delightfully warm and loved and tipsy.

Despite their most famous holiday traditions being broken this year, Harry reckons they’ve still had a good one. They’d still decorated the tree way earlier than socially acceptable, the girls screaming their lungs out when Nick had accidentally dropped an ornament. They’d even baked shortbread together at home, just the same as they would do in Grandma Eileen’s kitchen. The girls are happy, Paisley seems to be enjoying his first Christmas and Harry has hardly spent more than an hour away from Nick in the last few days.

He’s mostly glad that he has Nick. He can’t remember a Christmas that wasn’t spent with Nick. Well, apart from the ones as a child. It’s his longest lasting and most favorite tradition, being holed up with Nick every year.

He used to be worried that married life would eventually get boring. He never thought he’d get bored of _Nick_ exactly, but that things would become routine and bland in the ways he and Nick both dread in other things. Yet, here they are six years later, basically unwilling to let the other go on the grocery run alone.

Harry looks up at Nick, soft and tipsy too, in his glasses with his head tucked between some pillows. He scooches around again to get a better look at him, tangling the blanket further around them. “Love you.”

Nick looks down at him, a fond smile spreading across his face. “Happy Christmas, love.” He leans down to press a kiss to Harry’s lips, grabbing both their drinks and placing them on the coffee table.

“‘S a bit weird, isn’t it?” Harry asks as Nick moves around.

“What is?” Nick asks as he hunches over him, still rolled into the blanket.

“Being, like, here. At home. For Christmas, I mean.” Harry looks up at him, and doesn’t know how to feel. He’s happy of course; it’s Christmas, after all. It just feels a little bittersweet this year without everyone else.

“I suppose. I’ve got all I need right here though.” Smiling, he leans down again and Harry lets himself relax into the kiss.

Nothing feels weird after a minute as they quickly get lost in it. Harry’s warm all over and he can’t help but dip a hand into the back of Nick’s bottoms, only to discover that Nick forwent pants when he changed earlier. He pinches Nick’s hip lightly and Nick’s hands twist deeper in his hair, tangling it into an even bigger mess against the cushions.

Harry pulls away gently after another moment, tucking a bit of hair behind his ear. His eyes flick across the room. “The fire’s going to go out,” he mentions, pushing Nick with his knee.

“Let it,” Nick replies, lowering his head again. Harry doesn’t argue for a minute, letting himself sink into more wine lulled kisses.

“No, please. I want it to stay cozy. It’s Christmas, please?” Harry whines against his mouth before pushing him away.

“Alright, alright. But this is all you’re getting from me. Big ol’ lumps of coal and nowt else for you, Harry Styles.” He lumbers up off the couch, groaning and moaning as he goes. Nick kneels down to stoke the fire. “Oh god, my knees! I can’t get up!”

“Oh shut up, you’re not that old.”

“Don’t tell me to shut up on Christmas, Harold. Just leave me here to die then if you truly don’t care,” he says, falling dramatically to the side and rolling himself awkwardly onto their plush white (barely anymore, thanks to the kids) shag rug. Conveniently, he falls in a position that allows him to watch the telly whilst awaiting death.

Harry waits silently, half watching the television and half watching for any movement from Nick. It’s barely two minutes before Nick gives up the act.

“Will you bring me my wine?” he asks, not daring to look at Harry.

Harry does. He shoves a pillow under his arm and grabs both their glasses. He places one in front of Nick, beside the rug. “Don’t spill it,” he warns, and sits down behind him, ushering the pillow under Nick’s head.

Harry sips his own and his free hand idly makes it’s way into Nick’s hair. Brushing it out of his face and swirling his fingers around the bits that have got a bit too long at the back of his neck. He feels Nick shiver, but keeps going. Charlie Brown is still on the screen, preaching the true meaning of Christmas.

They sit like that for a while; Harry’s not sure how long. He lets his hand wander endlessly, tracing the shell of Nick’s ear, the hollow at the back of his jaw. Eventually, he slips his fingers over the knobs of his spine and under his sweater, trying to feel out each of Nick’s freckles.  

Nick reaches up and grabs Harry’s hand out of the back of his jumper. He holds Harry’s hand between the both of his, bringing it up to his mouth and kisses his open palm softly. “Thank you,” he whispers quietly. It feels special, like Nick’s transferring all his love for Harry through the quick, dry press of his lips. Harry’s not quite sure what the thank you is for though.

“I haven’t even given you your gift yet,” he laughs quietly, going back to drawing shapes and lines across Nick’s skin when his hand is released.

“Don’t need a gift, really,” Nick says, shivering again when Harry dips his fingers into the front of his top. He doesn’t sound very convinced, and Harry knows Nick would accept a gift anytime of the day or year. Especially this kind. “I’ve got you. I’ve got the kids. I’ve got the dog.”

“Well, it’s one you get every year,” Harry tells him, dragging his fingers through Nick’s chest hair more intently.

“We’ve already got our matching pyjamas on, love.” Nick rolls back towards him, his shoulder landing over Harry’s knees as he looks at him curiously.

Harry laughs gently again at Nick’s naivety. He spreads his hand out over the top of Nick’s jumper and takes a final sip of his wine. “Nick,” he starts, moving his hand even lower. “This is my favorite gift to give.”

He watches Nick’s eyes widen in understanding as he slips his fingers under the waistband of his pyjamas. “Oh,” Nick laughs. “I should have known.”

Harry wriggles his legs out from under Nick and moves to straddle him, pushing the knit top up his torso as he goes. “This is my favorite jumper.” 

“I know,” Nick replies, still laughing. It’s almost like he can’t stop, so appalled by the idea that he had forgotten their tradition of Christmas sex.

Harry reaches for his glasses, gently tossing them towards the fire.

“Oi, be careful with those. Those frames aren’t cheap!” Nick yelps, catching Harry’s wrist.

“I’ll pay for them,” Harry sighs, pushing his hands through Nick’s messy hair.

“Should I call you daddy, then?” Nick jokes. He brings a hand up to rest on Harry’s chest, fingers meeting skin in the low neck of his top.

“Well, it wouldn’t be untrue,” he laughs, reaching to push Nick’s jumper up further.

“Shut up! God, let’s get to it; my back can’t stand this floor forever, popstar.”

Harry doesn’t need telling twice, especially at the mention of that old nickname. He urges Nick up to peel his sweater off and Nick stays propped on his elbows as Harry kisses him.

“C’mon, Haz,” Nick whines as Harry takes his time kissing down his neck and chest. Harry revels in the way Nick’s hair changes from thick stubble to the greying rug he’s loved for so many years.

Harry grinds down against him, the flannel between their bodies growing hot. He’s missed this. Fucking Nick on Christmas really always did seem like such a gift. He gets a little carried away, touching and kissing all of Nick’s torso, but his knees start to protest even with the padding of the rug.

“Alright,” he relents, sinking down and biting quickly just under Nick’s belly button. Nick swats at his forehead with a squawk and then waits patiently for Harry to untie his pyjamas, resting a hand on his own chest.

Harry wrangles Nick’s bottoms mostly off in one meaningful tug, reminding him that Nick isn’t wearing any pants. “Is this my gift?” Harry jokes, throwing Nick’s pyjamas to the side. He shuffles back up Nick’s body, resting between his legs.

“Better than coal innit?” Nick’s hand finds it’s way into his hair like it’s second nature. “Get a move on; we’ve only got so much time before Santa comes.”

Harry snorts, laughing at a joke that hadn’t been made. Nick juts his hips up quickly in reminder. He’s not fully hard yet, but Harry can get him there. Harry ducks down, wrapping one hand around Nick’s prick, nosing up the soft vee of his hips, kissing the hair that’s grown over his biggest mistake of a tattoo on his belly. Nick twitches under him, his fingers tugging harder through Harry’s curls.

Harry takes his time admiring the tattoo. It’s so ugly and Nick wants to cover it up but Harry loves it. He’d been drunk on their holiday to Ibiza this summer and snuck away to get each of the kids names done, but he had bled all over and came back to Harry crying about his mistake. It also had ruined the rest of their holiday because he’d had to keep it out of the sun and water. The writing’s a little wonky and maybe Harry can’t say anything about shit tattoo placement, but the left side of his stomach was really a dumb place to decide on.

He makes his way down, kissing and biting gently as he goes and pressing fingers into Nick’s thigh. Harry presses a kiss to the tip when he gets there, opening his lips and huffing a hot breath. Nick whines out under his breath and his nails dig into Harry’s scalp for a second.

Harry starts stroking quickly before getting his whole mouth around him. He lets his mouth meet his fist a few times, paying special attention to the underside like Nick likes. He’s hard himself and he breathes heavily out his nose, peeking up at Nick.

His head pushes up into Nick’s hand as he changes the angle, and the fingers in his hair tighten, pushing him down again. Nick has himself propped on one elbow, breathing heavily. Harry lets his eyes cross, focusing on the thickest patch of hair between Nick’s pecks before closing his eyes again.

Harry can’t help but rock down into the rug for a second at the sight of Nick like this. He has to push his knees under himself to stop and the ache in his legs gives him a kick of motivation.

After a minute, he can feel Nick’s body urging him on by the tightness in his thigh and the grip on the back of his head.

“Haz, fuck, c’mon,” Nick whispers, his hips giving a futile thrust off the ground. Harry nods, pushing his hip down and pulling off to lave his tongue up the whole length of Nick’s cock a few times. “Don’t - don’t, the rug,” Nick mutters, his whole body turning into a breathy shiver.

Harry takes that as his cue, sliding his mouth down around him again, bobbing dutifully as Nick comes, swallowing thickly. Leaning back, he smiles up at Nick. “Mess avoided.”

His knees really do hurt, so he clamours up and extends a hand towards Nick. Nick groans as he rises, grabbing Harry’s elbow for extra support.

“Stark naked in the living room on Christmas Eve. This is a good look for me, don’t you think?” Nick jokes, gesturing down to himself.

Harry rolls his eyes and leans down to collect Nick’s clothes for him. He balls his jumper up and chucks it directly at Nick’s face.

“Oi, watch it. Knock the tree down with your bad aim and Christmas will be _ruined_.”

Harry scoffs, kicking his bottoms across the floor. He watches as Nick fusses with getting the sweater over his head with his arms crossed over his chest.

He hobbles over, oddly adorable in his half naked state, towards Harry as he tries to step into his pyjamas and reaches to stabilize himself with Harry’s shoulder.

Once Nick gets his balance, Harry pulls him in by the bottom of his jumper for a kiss. “Merry Christmas,” he murmurs against his lips.

“Thank you,” Nick replies, kissing towards his ear. Harry nuzzles into it, letting Nick sweep his hair away from his neck. Nick kisses his way down his throat and Harry can’t stop his hand from turning into a fist around Nick’s jumper, pulling him impossibly closer.

Over Nick’s shoulder, he spots the plate of cookies and celery sticks for Santa and his reindeer. “Wait, we’ve -” Harry mutters, wrapping a hand tight around Nick’s hip.

“Got to go to bed to finish this?” Nick finishes for him, voice rumbling against his neck.

“No, it’s - Santa,” Harry says. He tries to muster the strength to push Nick away. “Do you think the kids noticed that we gave him coconut milk?”

Nick leans up, his eyebrow quirked in confusion.

“We’ve got to put Santa’s gifts out!” Harry tells him, pushing him away with a hand to his bare stomach.

Technically, they always give Santa real milk when they’re up North. Harry had overheard Pete in the kitchen one year at Christmas complaining to Nick about how he didn’t understand “fruit and vegetable” milk. Clover hadn’t said anything this year when Harry had passed her the coconut milk out of the fridge earlier.

Harry lets go of Nick, willing away his hard-on for a minute. He picks up a celery stick, chomping on it noisily. “Dunno if I can stomach the milk right now. Not a great mix with red. Go grab the gifts?”

“No worries, Haz. Just burn some calories standing there and looking pretty. I’ll haul it all out here,” Nick laughs, kicking him lightly in the shin. He grabs a piece of shortbread and bends to retrieve his glasses before anyone steps on them.

“I’m kidding,” Harry shoves the rest of the celery into his mouth, smiling with his mouth open at Nick. Nick just pretends to barf into his mouth before bravely downing Santa’s milk.

Harry heads to the cupboard in the hall, scaring Pig out of her bed on the way. “Sshhh,” he whispers as her claws clatter across the hardwood.

They’ve hidden the presents from Santa there, since none of the kids are old or responsible enough to go refreshing their own towels. Nick comes in behind him even though there’s barely enough room for one person inside the closet.

Harry reaches for the biggest present; it’s Clover’s. She’d asked Santa for this ridiculous contraption that scans your body to immortalize you into a dancing hologram. Harry couldn’t resist buying it for her, especially when he saw the look on her face when Nick had helped the girls write their letters to Santa earlier in the month.

“I still can’t believe you bought her this. It’s going to take us about four hours to set up in the morning,” Nick grumbles.

“Grinch,” Harry calls him, handing the box out to him. He grabs the other presents. Ginger had asked for a very specific larger than life stuffed hippo that Nick had gone to three separate stores to find. They’d just gotten Paisley some new clothes to replace all the ones he’s barfed on one too many times.

Harry had wanted to get him something cool, but Nick had argued with him, saying that Paisley didn’t even understand the concept of object permanence yet, so he wouldn’t bloody appreciate a fancy Christmas present. It’s the same thing he’d told Harry about the other kids, but Harry still tries again each time around.

In the family room, Harry shoo’s Nick to go retrieve the stocking stuffers as he arranges all the gifts perfectly under the tree.

He’s just arranged everything to St. Nich level perfection when Nick comes back in with their little stockings, stuffed full. Aimee had bought them all new stockings this year, for whatever reason. She’d sat them down and clapped her hands gleefully as they all opened their gifts, all which included wildly patterned stockings. Paisley’s had been so tiny and adorable that it made Harry tear up, but the rest of them were a little much.

“We’re using these are we?” Harry laughs as Nick hangs them carefully on the mantle.

Nick nods his head and pets mockingly down Clover’s red and green striped faux fur one. “Beautiful,” he whispers with his voice full of sarcastic awe.

Harry steps up behind him, slipping a hand under Nick’s jumper. He places a kiss to the back of his neck and hooks his chin over Nick’s shoulder. He can’t help himself from pushing his fingers through the hair on Nick’s belly, pushing him back into Harry.

“Are we done?” Nick asks, dropping his head back as Harry kisses his neck again.

“With the presents,” Harry murmurs into his skin.

Nick leans his head around for a real kiss. “Well, I haven’t given you yours yet. But this one involves a bed.”

Harry smacks his stomach. “Alright, let’s go then, Santa,” he chuckles.

“Nope. No. That’s where I draw the line. No one is roleplaying as Santa here. Ever.”

 

\--------------------------------

 

NEW YEAR'S EVE 2011/12

_Oldham_

 

Harry’s curled up on the floor of Nick’s parents’ living room with a plastic tumbler full of champagne. It’s not his poshest moment, but it’s alright. He’s got his feet in Aimee’s lap and Nick’s above him on the couch, absently running his fingers through Harry’s hair. He feels loved and happy and well on his way to being drunk. Everything he likes to feel on a holiday.

It’s just Nick’s family in the house, everyone that had stayed for Christmas, and a few of the neighbours that Pete had spent all day complaining about having over. There’s holiday music playing quietly on the old record player in the hall and they’re watching New Year’s programmes on the telly.

Harry thinks it must be close to midnight. The entire night was a bit of a whirlwind, Eileen’s friends scooping him up and feeding him cookies and topping up his glass with whatever they had around. Nick had saved him, asking for his help with something in the kitchen when all he really wanted was someone to take a shot with. They’d ended up in the living room some how. He thinks Aimee had enticed them with a cheese plate.

“This is so lame,” Nick groans. His words are muffled by the double vodka he’s trying to inhale. “Aimee, why have we agreed to this?”

“Because you’re really not as famous as you think you are and you haven’t got any friends,” Aimee remarks, smiling sweetly at him from her seat on the carpet next to the Christmas tree. “Except me and this freak over here.” She points at Harry.

“Heyyy,” he whines. He’s not a freak. He just, didn’t want to do anything else. Sure, he’d been invited to lots of stuff. Liam was having a party in London and Lou was doing something with Caroline and the girls. His mum had even invited him on holiday to Spain with her and Robin. But Nick wasn’t going to be any of those places. He was going to be here.

He was actually surprised when Nick had asked him to come for Christmas. And again when he accidentally saw Nick’s barrage of texts from Aimee, ribbing him relentlessly for inviting Harry.

 

_I still can’t believe u invited Haz_

_This will only mean trouble Nicholas_

_Christmas means feelings_

_Don’t ignore me bc u know i’m right_

_I’m not sleeping on the couch_

_What do ur parents think?_

 

Harry had tried to forget about the texts, but not with much success. He hopes he hasn’t overstayed his welcome. He _did_ spend the last few days at home with his own family and Pete hasn’t tried to kick him out like he has some of the neighbours tonight, so he reckons he’s safe.

This Christmas has been so good to Harry. It had felt nice to stop for a moment, to get away from the craziness that has become his life. If he’s honest, he needed a bit of a break from the boys too. The rehearsals and tour have been great so far, but he had craved a holiday. He needed lie-ins and leftovers. But most of all, he wanted to fall back into spending more time with Nick.

Harry reckons he’s spent more time at Nick’s flat than his own the past few months, much to Louis’ jealousy. They had started a funny pattern of shopping, eating takeaway and napping on the couch together before Harry had gone back to work. It was weird to be thrown back into his non-stop lifestyle again after so many weeks just feeling like a normal lad around Nick and his friends.

He’s slept at Nick’s parent’s house four times just this week, helped Eileen bake three fruit cakes, and had one super secret present-wrapping session with Nick and Aimee on Christmas Eve.

They had exchanged gifts that night too, him and Nick. Aimee had left the room on the pretense of finding dessert and left them alone in Nick’s old room. They had sat knee to knee on the bed and swapped presents.

He’s had little crushes on a few of his mates, but the way he feels about Nick is different. It’s been this weird, teasing, unsure thing for so long. He might even fancy Nick more than he’s ever fancied anyone before.

It was then, on Christmas, when he had properly realized it, that he might even be _in love_ with Nick. Nick with his sweet eyes and loud mouth and curly hair. With his hairy chest and big hands and long legs. There isn’t a thing about him that Harry doesn’t like.

Harry can feel himself blushing as he thinks about it, and brings his cup back up to his mouth before anyone can see. Nick’s fingers are still combing idly through his curls and Harry couldn’t care less what his hair looks like right now. Nick’s bangles are jangling quietly next to his ear and he lets his head press back into the touch.

Things are quiet for a moment and Harry lets his eyes slip shut. He’s tired, so he opens them a crack to check his watch. It’s the present Nick had given him. He hasn’t taken it off since Christmas. Except to shower, because it’s kind of a posh one and Harry thinks watches wouldn’t fare well in the shower. But he doesn’t know; he’s never owned a watch before. It’s closer to midnight than he’d thought.

He wonders if the couch will still smell like Nick when he goes to sleep later. He hopes so. Nick smells nice, like something thick and a little bit cinnamony, but maybe also a bit like a flower. Harry’s never been able to place it.

“I’m twenty-seven goddamn years old and I haven’t kissed anyone but you on New Year’s in like four fucking years,” Nick complains to Aimee loudly, and belatedly. Maybe not, maybe Harry’s just too far into his own head. His hand stops in Harry’s hair and Harry opens his eyes.

“Even Liv’s got someone to kiss. This is so unfair.”

Liv sticks her tongue out at him from her perch across the room in her boyfriend’s lap. “Shut up. You’re being such a Negative Nicky.”

Harry can’t help but let out a snort at that and Aimee starts cackling so hard she almost falls into the fireplace. Nick just huffs an annoyed breath and slips off the couch, slouching onto the floor next to Harry.

He’s wearing the jumper Harry got him for Christmas. It’s knitted and dark blue, and Harry wonders if he really likes it or if he’s just wearing it because Harry’s around. His fingers tickle with the need to touch it. He remembers how soft it is and wonders what it feels like against Nick’s forearm. He puts his drink between his legs, freeing his hands unsuspiciously.

“Can we all take a shot so I can forget I’m spending New Years with my parents? I should be on a yacht, honestly. Harry will you take me on a yacht?” Nick asks, throwing back the last of his drink. Harry nods. He thinks he’d take Nick anywhere.

Nick gets Liv to retrieve the alcohol and glasses and when she gets back, he urges them all closer. Mostly so that he doesn’t have to move from his spot against the couch. Harry turns towards him a little, completing the circle of bodies. Liv places the glasses in the middle, filling them up.

Harry reaches eagerly for his glass. There’s some kind of gold stuff floating in the bottom of the bottle. It’s fancy and Nick wants him to drink it; he’s not going to say no.

His fingers brush Nick’s as they reach at the same time. It sends a quick shiver through him from tip to toe. All around Harry, everyone tips their heads back, downing their drinks.

Harry blinks. He looks down at his hand. He looks up at Nick. Nick’s looking at him and waiting for him to take the shot, so he does. He squeezes his eyes shut and gulps it down.

Harry chokes. It wasn’t vodka. It was something cinnamon and he can feel a gold flake stuck on his tongue.

“Fuck, what was that?” Harry coughs, wincing as he slams the glass on the floor.

“Something German I can’t pronounce,” Nick laughs, reaching to pat him on the back.

His hair tickles his forehead and he licks the taste of cinnamon from his lips. He wonders if Nick’s lips taste the same.

“You’re lucky I haven’t mentioned to my parents that you’re a child.”

“Liv’s drinking,” Harry reminds him. He brushes his hair out of his face. “She’s younger than me.”

Liv rolls her eyes and drags her boyfriend back across the room, resettling into his lap on Pete’s chair.

Suddenly, Eileen comes whirling into the room, her gaggle of friends hot on her heels. “Nick! Nicholas! Change the channel! Get the countdown on.” Jane and Pete come trudging in after them.

Nick sighs and fumbles blindly backwards onto the couch to find the remote. He clicks over to the right programme and struggles to his feet. He reaches out for Harry’s hand to help haul him up.

Harry’s own hand feels heavy and a little fuzzy, like all his other limbs upon quick reflection. But Nick’s hand feels large and warm and strong against Harry’s.

The room is full of people Harry doesn’t know, but he loves them a bit anyway. Someone in Nick’s family loves them enough to have them here, and Nick loves _him_ enough to have him here.

Nick leans into Aimee’s shoulder, keeps his fingers tight against Harry’s. The man on the telly is building up to the countdown and Harry swallows a lump in his throat. It feels so right suddenly, that he’s here.

That ridiculous, giddy feeling he always gets around Nick ramps up in his stomach and he squeezes his hand around Nick’s. Somewhere in the room, someone crack’s a joke about the host on the telly and everyone bursts out in laughter.

“Ten!” Everyone shouts as the countdown begins. Harry looks up from their hands to Nick’s face. Nick smiles down at him, big and giggling and perfect.

“Nine!” The crowd in the small room seems to be bouncing as they count, anticipating the new year.

“Eight!” Harry realizes he hadn’t worked out who he was going to kiss. He looks lazily around the room, his movements slowed a bit by all the alcohol. He hadn't meant to get this drunk.

“Seven!” He sees Eileen right at Pete’s side, Liv hanging off her boyfriend’s shoulder. Neighbours he hasn't met seem to be pairing off.

“Six!” A tug to his hand reminds him of Nick. Not that he forgot, he was just distracted by thoughts of kissing. He looks up again and focuses his eyes on the back of Nick’s head. It's a nice head.

“Five!” Even Nick has someone to kiss. Aimee is holding onto his other hand with just as tight a hold as Harry. But Nick was complaining about it earlier, wasn't he?

“Four!” He was definitely complaining, Harry decides. He could kiss Nick. He definitely could. He’d just have to get his attention and -

“Three!” And put a hand on his cheek, his jaw, his neck, anywhere. He would just have to pull Nick down a fraction of an inch and they could -

“Two!” He's going to do it. He’s going to kiss Nick Grimshaw. Nick turns to Harry, thrusting their hands in the air as he counts down a beat behind everyone else.

Nick turns his head away to yell “One!” in Aimee’s face, but Harry’s free hand reaches for Nick’s jaw, pulling him back towards him.

It happens quickly, not in slow motion at all like the movies make it seem like it might. Harry barely has time to watch Nick’s eyes go wide with confusion as he leans up on his tiptoes, pressing their lips together and squeezing his hand around Nick’s fingers.

He hears everyone call out “Happy New Year!” and Aimee’s definite whistle behind Nick, but he hardly cares.

It’s wonderful, kissing Nick. It’s all that he’s imagined in the last five seconds.

It takes a second for Nick to comprehend what's happening, but Harry feels like soaring when he feels the muscles in Nick’s neck relax. Nick swipes his tongue gently across his bottom lip and Harry moves in, trying to open the kiss, just as Nick is yanked away.

“No!” Harry whines, chasing his lips. His hand falls from Nick's neck and his eyes fly open. Harry tries to pull him in by the front of his sweater, but Eileen has a stronger hold on Nick’s arm.

“Alright, son, it’s a quick kiss. No need to suffocate the boy,” Eileen scolds, completely unphased.

“Mum, I -” Nick tries to interrupt and set her straight. But she releases him and herds her friends back into the dining room for another round of champagne and sherry. He turns back to Harry, who drops the hand on his chest. “What was that?”

Harry just shrugs. Nick _had_ kissed him back, but now he just feels awkward. “Dunno,” he mumbles, looking away.

“Come here,” Nick laughs, shaking his head as he pulls Harry back in. He leans down, pressing his lips to Harry’s in just the way Harry had tried to before.

Harry slips his hand up under the back of Nick’s jumper, the cashmere soft on the back of his hand. Nick lets out a heavy breath around his mouth when Harry dips the tips of his fingers under the waistband of his pants.

He pulls back reluctantly after a moment, suddenly sure of himself. “Do I still have to sleep on the couch?”  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully you enjoyed this! I welcome any and all comments, and if you like the verse believe me when I say there's more.


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